


Possibly, Maybe I'm Falling For You

by Rumpelstiltskin_wait



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dark Castle Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Rumbelle - Freeform, super special surprise fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3828013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumpelstiltskin_wait/pseuds/Rumpelstiltskin_wait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tooth rottingly fluffy drabble about two giant dorks trying to face their feelings for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allielee2014](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allielee2014/gifts).



> This is a super special surprise fic for one of my best friends on tumblr, Allie. Love you girl!  
> (also go follow her because she's wonderful! http://mallie-taylor.tumblr.com)

Rumplestiltskin hadn’t shown his face all day. Which wasn’t _really_ all that strange, but today it was bothering Belle much more than she like to admit.

  
Two months ago she would have been happy to have a moment away from the dark one's shrill giggles, vile quips, and harsh remarks. But something had changed –rather quickly- since then. He wasn’t her master, the big scary dark one, anymore –he _hated_ it when she called him that- he was just Rumplestiltskin; she might even go as far as to call him a friend. Sometimes she even thought of herself as his companion; she certainly wasn’t much of a maid any longer. Maids cleaned, and miraculously, there was nothing to clean. Everything was spotless _constantly._ If she was being honest, it was unnerving. If he was going to magically clean the castle, he could have at least been less obvious about it. Did he honestly think she wouldn’t notice when suddenly there was no work to be done? He was trying to be nice –though he would never admit it-, she appreciated that, and it was nice, it was just _boring_.

She read of course, but after the first week of doing nothing but reading, Belle got restless. And now Rumplestiltskin was nowhere to be found, and it was driving her absolutely _mad_.

This led to her wandering the endless halls of the castle, in search of something, _anything_ , to do. The rooms seemed to go on forever, and there was always another untouched, dusty room that she hadn’t discovered. Bedrooms, sitting rooms, rooms full of weapons, rooms full of gold, in one instance a room full of...Bagpipes? She’d have to remember to ask him about that. But none of the rooms held her interest for long. Deciding to investigate one more room before she gave up her search, her wanderings brought her to an old wooden door at the end of a long hallway. 

Judging by thick layer of dust covering every surface in the narrow passage, no one had visited this area of the castle in a long while; or maybe ever. She briefly mused that the inch of dust on the ground solidified her theory that Rumplestiltskin was magically relieving her of her duties as his maid. Surely he wouldn’t waste magic to clean a grimy hall that she _probably_ wouldn’t ever see. Still, the fact that there were no foot prints to be seen other the ones she was currently leaving, gave her pause. 

_Maybe there’s a reason he doesn’t venture here_ , she pondered. But, despite her momentary concern of walking into a room full of used-to-be-human snails, she carefully turned the small brass knob and slowly peeked around the door.       

Belle gasped. _She certainly wasn’t expecting that._

The room was positively _massive_ , and upon opening the door fully for further inspection, she found that it was even larger than the great hall! Ceilings higher than she had ever seen, metal spiral staircases scattered around, all leading up to various levels and platforms. And every last inch of the room was piled in _stuff_. Crates were stacked precariously high, overflowing with everything from stuffed animals, to beautiful quilts, to sharp hunks of metal that she assumed were meant to be used as torturous devices. And it was all sitting unused collecting dust. That just wouldn’t do. 

***

Rumplestiltskin would be lying if he said that he hadn’t grown quite fond of his little maid. She was kind and gentle, she laughed at even the worst of his quips, she could carry on an intelligent conversation, and of course, she was beautiful; stunning really. 

To say that he admired her beauty would be an understatement. Truthfully, he caught himself staring more than he would have liked to admit, and it was actually becoming a problem. 

Her smile, her eyes, the way they both lit up when she laughed –encouraging him to put in the effort to make her laugh more often-, the way her hair fell around her neck and face while she read –often making his fingers itch to brush the strands away-, the curve of her back when she stretched to dust a high object. It was all so _distracting._     

Spinning was near impossible, and he could forget trying to work on minor potions in the great hall –a practice that he had picked up soon after the realization that he _enjoyed_ Belles company-. Her constant utter _perfection_ was affecting his work, and something had to be done about it, or he would never get anything done. 

So, despite his better judgment telling him to spend every waking moment with Belle, he locked himself away in his tower. He told himself that it was best, that he would definitely get more work done without her fliting around pretending to dust –there was no way she was actually dusting, since he had rid the majority of the castle of every fleck of dust-, and it worked for a while. But after a week of getting little more work done -due to the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about his damned maid- he was getting lonely.  

While loneliness wasn’t something that Rumplestiltskin liked to acknowledge, it was ever present. That is, until a certain smiley maid wiggled her way into his home –and his heart. And now that he was away from her, he was lonely again. He missed her.  Granted, he saw her every morning for tea, and every evening for dinner. But the hour’s in-between were spent alone in his tower, glowering over empty potion bottles and slowly spoiling ingredients, wishing he were with Belle. 

And that’s how, on the seventh day of Belle-less-ness, he found himself practically running down the stairs of the tower, hoping to find her curled up on the settee by his wheel, so he could sit, and spin, and watch, and listen as she spoke at length about her latest literary adventure. 

But she wasn’t there. Which, he thought, was probably a good thing; considering how it would have looked, him bursting into the great hall the way he did. Despite his relief in not being seen running from his tower to be with his maid, he was still disappointed to find the great hall empty.

He called her name, earning nothing but an echo through the empty hall in response.  That just wouldn’t do. Reaching out with tendrils of magic, he searched everywhere he knew she could be. The library was empty, as was the kitchen, her bed chambers, and the gardens. For good measure, he even searched the surrounding forest in fear that she had run after another puppy; still nothing.

Deciding not to jump to terrifying conclusions, he reached out again, further this time, further into the castle, further into the forest, further in every direction, until he felt her presence at the furthest end of the east wing. Rumplestiltskin hadn’t set foot in the east wing for at least a century, his magic on the other hand… 

Over the last oh…200 years, Rumplestiltskin had been magically banishing bits and bobs to the east wing nearly every day. Truthfully, he was a bit of a collector. Granted, collectors were known for admiring their collections instead of locking them away to never be seen again, but he was a collector all the same. Some of the objects were useless trinkets that had at some point been someone’s treasured family heirlooms. Some were equally as useless weapons or torture devices. Some were things he had just found. And some of them were of the extremely dangerous sort. 

In a split second he was standing at the end of the longest hall in the east wing, where he had felt Belles presence.  Overwhelmed with worry, he quickly made his way down the hall, checking every room along the way, simultaneously calling for her and cursing his powers for not being able to pinpoint his wandering maid’s location. 

Reaching the end of the corridor and rounding the corner, he noticed the thick layer of dust covering the ground…and the small shoeprints leading to an open door. _Of course._  
  
***  
  
The room was brighter than Belle would have expected; almost unnaturally so, actually. There were no candles or windows anywhere in the room that she could see, but upon further inspection, she located the source of the unnervingly bright light. There were strange glowing pear shaped objects mounted at various locations on the surrounding walls. 

Reaching toward the nearest orb with an opened palm, she found that like a flame, the orb gave off tremendous heat. She would have to remember to ask Rumplestiltskin about those too; probably just a strange bit of magic, but she still would have liked to understand how they worked. 

Moving cautiously, so as not to disrupt any precariously placed objects and create what she imagined would be an avalanche of sorts, Belle made her way further into the massive hall. Many things caught her eye, particularly a Tiger mid-stride (which thankfully, was not alive), a dusty piano, and underneath one of the staircases was a large ornately carved wooden case. Carefully, she reached under the lowest stair and wrapped her fingers around a leather handle connected to the side of the case. 

Upon opening it, Belle discovered it was filled with very familiar items. It was full of art supplies; inkwells of several different colors and shades, a thick stack of parchment, an array of beautiful quill pens, a few sticks of graphite encased in wood. Her mother used to have a set quite like this one, before… Quickly her vision blurred with tears at the unexpected reminder of her late mother. Belle wiped furiously at her eyes –probably irritating them in the process- and tried to focus on the objects before her, instead of the memories of her mother’s death; or rather, lack thereof. 

After taking a moment to compose her suddenly downcast emotions, Belle picked an intricately decorated quill pen from the case and began examining it.  
   
***  
  
He supposed it was his fault that she found that room in the first place. He should have taken precautions to keep her safe; he should have placed a spell to block off that entire section of the castle, really. 

Rumplestiltskin had long ago stopped trying to make excuses for these thoughts. He no longer told himself that the reason he enchanted the stairs so she wouldn’t fall was because he didn’t want to have to clean up her remains at the foot of the stairs. Or that the reason her room was always the perfect temperature was because a cold maid can’t clean properly. Or that he had made every rose bush in a two mile radius thorn-less because sore fingers would prohibit her from scrubbing the dishes. 

No, he didn’t have a problem admitting it to himself now; all those things were done for one simple reason. He cared about her. He cared about her deeply, so deeply it scared him at times; the only thing that scared him more, was the thought of her being hurt.

Taking quick, long strides, he made it down the long corridor within seconds, pausing for a moment at the door before quickly pushing it open and stepping inside. Just as he was about to call out for his wandering little maid, he happened to glance around a stack of crates and his gaze caught a mass of chocolate curls and sky blue skirts. _There she is._

Without a word he took a few small steps closer, hoping to quietly admire her for a moment before alerting her to his presence. As he rounded a stack of crates her profile came into view, and he paused, taking her in. 

She was sitting on the ground, legs tucked to the side along with her skirts, and she was staring intently at something in her hands, with an almost forlorn expression. Whatever she was examining so closely had her troubled; and that wouldn’t do.

Briefly, he imagined that he would go to her, ask her what troubled her, console her, maybe make a quip to coax that beautiful smile out of hiding; maybe, if he was lucky, she would even hug him again. 

Just as he lifted his foot to take a step closer, Belle lifted the object that she had been examining, bringing it closer to her face. 

Rumplestiltskin sucked in a sharp breath as his gaze fixed on the object. To most, it would be simply a quill pen. To Rumplestiltskin, it was a dangerously sharp, _possibly magical quill pen_ , and it was definitely much too close to Belles face at the moment. 

A wave of panic rushed over him. What if it was magical? What if she pricked herself? Worse yet, what if she cut herself? Would a vicious poison spread through her veins? Would it turn her into a toad? Or a snail? Or what if it was a sleeping curse? What if it killed her?

The thought struck him like a blow to the chest, and entirely without thinking, he rushed forward, shouting as he did “Belle! That’s dangerous! Be careful!”

The second the words left his mouth he regretted them, realizing that in his haste to warn her of the dangerous object so near to her face, he may have startled her. This was confirmed when Belle let out a yelp and ducked her head, whirling around as far as she could in the awkward position she was currently in. 

“Rumplestiltskin! It’s only a pen!  And you scared the living daylights out of me!” she shrieked, giving him a glare that would surely crumble any mortal man. 

And it very nearly would have crumbled an immortal sorcerer, if he hadn’t been busy gaping at his maid with sheer terror written all over his face. “Belle… _Oh gods_ , Belle!” He breathed, rushing toward her and practically throwing himself to his knees beside her. 

“Rumpestilskin what are you-“ Belle began, cut short when in a whir of motion, her master placed his left hand low on her right hip, and his right on the left side of her waist, quickly pulling her around to face him fully. A sharp gasp left her lips at his _very_ sudden initiation of contact, and the realization that she was now positioned with her knees between his.

“RUMPLEST-“  he cut her off again when both of his mottled hand came up to cup her cheeks, and she couldn’t help the wave of panic that came over her at the sight of Rumplestiltskin, the almighty, the feared, the infamous, looking positively fearful as he grazed his thumb over her right cheek.

He sensed no magical properties, just an ordinary laceration, but that only soothed him slightly. “Belle- oh gods- no no no- “ he muttered, barely audible unless you were face to face with him, which Belle was. 

“What do you mean ‘no no no’ what’s going on?! What are you doing?!” Belle demanded, shaking her head still in his grasp. 

Suddenly Belle registered a sharp stinging pain forming on the cheek Rumplestiltskin had been stroking, and the sensation of something warm trickling onto the corner of her mouth. She instinctively darted her tongue to her lip, cringing at the strong metallic flavor that came back to her mouth. She was bleeding, apparently, and her master was still on his knees before her, holding her face as he muttered her name.  

Quickly she glanced down at her hand, which was still grasping the quill pen, its steel nib covered in a fine layer of red. Instinctively her fingers flew to where she felt the pain, covering Rumplestiltskins hand with her own. She hissed when her fingers found the wound, and drew them away to find their tips covered in her own blood. Almost immediately her eyes welled with tears, the full force of the pain hitting her suddenly, along with the severity, if the blood now dripping onto her bodice was any indication. Without thinking, her hands grasped both of his wrists as she released a breathy sob, meeting his eyes as hers filled with alarm. 

“Shh shh shh, no Belle please don’t cry my dear, please” Rumplestiltskin begged, hurriedly using his thumbs to wipe away the tears forming in the corners of her eyes, careful to avoid causing any further pain to the large gash in her right cheek. “Hey, Hey look at me, Belle, I’ll take care of it! Don’t cry okay? I’ll make the pain go away it’ll only take a moment.” He assured, pulling his left hand away from her cheek and out of her grasp. 

With little more than a flex of his fingers, his palm began to glow and shimmer with bright yellow light, and slowly he brought it to her cheek. 

“Wait!” Belle grasped his wrist again, pulling his hand away before she could feel the tingling buzz of his magic against her. “Don’t.” She stated as firmly as she could through a sniffle. 

“Belle if you just let me-“ Rumplestiltskin tried to argue, but stopped short when one of her slender fingers pressed firmly to his lips. For a brief moment he had an unexplainable urge to kiss it, but he wouldn’t think too hard on that at the moment, not when she was staring at him like he’d just killed her cat. 

She must have noticed the confusion on his face, because almost immediately she withdrew her finger and explained. 

“If I’ve learned anything since I’ve been with you, it’s that magic comes with a price, especially healing magic. And I don’t want either of us paying for it.” 

“Belle…” He chided “I would never make you pay the price for _healing your wound!_ I can pay it myself. Gods know I’ve paid for worse.” 

With the hand not still grasping his wrist, she gently closed his palm, snuffing out the glow of magic emanating from it, and wrapped both of her hands around his closed fist. “ _I know._ And I don’t want you to pay it either.”   

Rumplestiltskin stared down at her pale dainty hands, encasing his large grotesquely scaled fist. The contrast of her skin against his own was beautiful in a strange way, and he couldn’t help but think it was a beauty all their own, unique, unparalleled. The thought made something well up deep inside him, swirling in his chest and coursing through his veins; a feeling he wasn’t quite ready to put a name to.

He lifted his gaze and met her -gently pleading- cerulean eyes. He couldn’t argue the matter when she was looking at him like that, staring straight into him with a gentle intensity that was all her own, and in all his centuries of life, he had never seen paralleled.  The lingering gleam of unshed tears made his heart lurch, and suddenly he didn’t have the strength to keep eye contact. Involuntarily his eyes flicked to her mouth where a slight steady tremor was running through her lower lip. 

His eyes flicked back to hers and he sighed deeply, defeated, he dropped his right hand from its place on her cheek, inwardly grieving the loss of warmth.  

“As you wish. No magic.” He said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a halfhearted smile. 

Not yet ready to lose the now comfortable contact of her skin on his, he snapped the fingers of his left hand, keeping his right within her warm grasp. To the right of their bodies appeared a large bowl –filled with steaming water, a stack of plush white cloths –a golden R’s adorning the corners, and a large black case – as big around as a tea tray and at least a foot high, leaving a tinge of magic hanging around them before dissipating. 

Belle cocked her head slightly, casting a disapproving, questioning gaze at him. 

“Ah, ah.” Rumplestiltskin raised his brows, making a small flourish with the fingers of his left hand, meant to stop her before she questioned his use of magic. “Only a simple summoning spell. Everything was already in the castle, I only brought it to us.” He said, motioning toward the items again. “All completely ordinary objects, don’t you worry” 

The smile he gave her was genuine, soft and warm, calming. So different from the giggles and sneers he gave everyone else. That fact warmed her heart, a fluttery feeling in her chest; and she never wanted it to go away. 

Belle could have whimpered when he finally pulled his hand out of hers –little did she know he mourned the loss of contact as much as she did- but she kept her lips pressed tight and watched him as he went to work, his brow knit in concentration. She always admired him in moments such as these, when he was focused on a task, completely absorbed in whatever that task was. At the moment the task was laying out the contents of the large black case –which was filled will cloth bandages and all sorts of tools medical in nature. 

“I’ll need to clean the wound first.” He stated, adding a few pinches of a light green powder -which she assumed held some kind of cleansing properties- to the bowl of hot water and stirring it with his finger. 

Belle watched him as he leaned over the bowl and dipped one of the white cloths into the solution “Will it hurt?” she asked with a shaky breath. 

“Probably.” His gaze flicked up from the cloth to meet her eyes for a moment, sympathy evident on his features. 

Belle swallowed. 

Rumplestiltskin held her gaze as he lifted the cloth toward her cheek, then hesitated. Without a second thought Belle reached for his free hand, giving it a squeeze, both for her own comfort, and to let him know she was ready. Ever so carefully Rumplestiltskin pressed the warm wet cloth to her jaw, wiping away the blood that was beginning to dry there. She could have wept at his tenderness, and the way he met her eyes every few seconds to check that she was still okay. Her pulse quickened when he squeezed her fingers. “It's okay, you're fine.” He assured, dipping the cloth into the water again and bring it to her cheek bone, where the cut started.

Belle hissed and jerked away when the cloth came into contact with the wound, unconsciously digging her nails into his palm. “Be gentle!” she yelped.

Rumplestiltskin didn’t seem to be fazed by her little outburst, only dipping the cloth again and bringing it back to the cut. “Oh hush now, _I am_ being gentle. Just sit still and it won’t hurt as badly.”

Belle hissed and clenched her jaw again at the first touch of the cloth, but relaxed when the warmth of the water began to sooth the pain “I wouldn’t even be hurt if you hadn’t snuck up on me like that…” Belle grumbled, half hoping he wouldn’t hear her

He did, of course. 

“Well if you hadn’t wandered somewhere you shouldn’t, I wouldn’t have had to come find you!” He snapped, immediately regretting his response when he saw the dejected look on her face, and the moisture forming in the corners of her eyes. 

“I was only exploring the castle because you keep locking yourself away in your tower and I…I was lonely.” Belle admitted, just above a whisper, pulling her hand away from his grasp and folding her hands together in her lap, staring down at them. 

There was nothing but silence for a long moment as Rumplestiltskin drew away the cloth –which was now splotched with red- and gently placed it in the bowl of now luke-warm water.  

“Belle- You…” He ducked his head, staring at his still open palm, missing the warm weight of her slight hand in his. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone for so long…I just didn’t think that you-“ he paused, taking a shallow breath. “please forgive me”

He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but she looked even more dejected now. She sniffed slightly, and continued to stare at her fingers as she fiddled with her skirts. “No, you don’t have to apologize. It’s not your job to keep the maid company. I was being silly.” 

In a sudden act of boldness, Rumplestiltskin lifted his hand and placed his index finger under her chin, ducking his head to meet her eyes. “hey” he breathed, and she lifted her head slightly, meeting his eyes from behind long lashes. “It absolutely _is_ my job to keep you company. Do you see anyone else in this castle?” he said with an attempt at a charming smirk, in hopes of lightening the mood.

To his relief, his efforts were rewarded with a soft laugh that made its way to her eyes when she finally looked up at him properly. He couldn’t have stopped his smirk from widening into a genuine smile even if he tried, and he didn’t. 

Slowly they both came back to themselves, realizing that they may have been smiling at each other for longer than would be considered normal for maid and master. But that’s not what they were, was it? They hadn’t been that for some time now, but they were both only now realizing it. The question was, what were they?

Rumplestiltskin was the first to break eye contact, ducking his head and chuckling softly, shyly. Who would have ever thought? The dark one…shy.     

A moment passed before he looked up again, this time his face sober as he reached a hand out, placing his thumb on her jaw, his fingers grazing the skin just below her ear. He could have sworn she shivered, but it wasn’t the slightest bit chilly, could it have been that she- No, he wouldn’t let himself even begin to think that way. There was no way a sweet young woman could feel anything for an old beast like himself, not beyond the friendliness she extended so readily, anyhow.  And didn’t she extend the same friendliness to everyone who crossed her path?

Coming back to himself, he gently turned her head, getting a better look at the long gash that ran from her cheekbone to just above the right corner of her mouth. “Belle, this is quite deep…” he started

“Do what you must.” She said, reaching for his hand. “I trust you” she smiled at him again, a smile that could melt hearts, and it very well did. 

“That means I’m going to have to stitch it. Are you _completely_ sure you don’t want me to heal it?”

She squeezed his fingers in her own, nodding her head as she spoke “Rumple, I’m sure. Please, let’s just get it over with.”

_Rumple?_

The endearing shortening of his name took them both by surprise. It had simply slipped from her lips like it was the most natural thing in the world, even if she’d never called him by it before. A blush crept upon her at his puzzled smirk, and just for a moment she was sure she saw the golden tint on his cheeks darken. 

Rumple finally spoke again, breaking the slightly awkward silence.  
“Okay, if you’re sure.” He said warily, carefully adjusting his hand in hers to intertwine a few of their fingers and squeeze lightly “And I’ll uh, need my hand back” he continued with a shy smile, causing her blush to darken further at the glint in his eyes.

Despite herself she released his hand, bringing hers back to her lap. She watched with rapt attention as he removed a curved needle and a spool of thin white thread from the case. With nimble fingers he deftly threaded the nearly invisible strand through the eye of the needle, cutting off a forearms length of it and setting the threaded needle to the side. 

Rumplestiltskin made a quick downward motion with his right hand, summoning his flask into his hold. Belle had seen much during the ogre attacks, injured soldiers, injured townspeople, on one rather horrendous occasion an injured child; she was no stranger to the process of stitching a wound. The flask wasn’t for drinking, it was for disinfecting. 

This was confirmed when Rumplestiltskin opened the flask –the scent of strong alcohol hitting her harder than she expected- and poured a small amount onto the corner of one of the clean white cloths. First he picked up the needle and thread, pinching it between the alcohol soaked cloth and pulling it through a few times for good measure. Then he poured a bit more of the strong smelling liquid onto the cloth and cautiously lifted it toward her cheek. 

“This is going to sting quite a bit” 

Needing some kind of contact, some kind of comfort, she thrust her hand to his leather clad knee gripping it tightly, and squeezed her eyes shut tight. 

Thank the gods she closed her eyes, because Rumplestiltskin couldn’t help but gape down at her hand, her nails indenting the leather just above his knee cap. He shivered and hoped that it was only visible and not felt by the dainty hand squeezing his knee hard enough to feel the blood pumping through his veins.  

Gently, he dabbed the damp cloth below the cut itself, so as to give her fair warning. Then ever so slowly he wiped along either side of the cut, careful not to touch the inside. He felt her grip his knee a little tighter –almost wincing at her surprising strength- as he swiped over her cheek one last time for good measure. 

Belle opened her eyes again as he withdrew the cloth, exchanging it for a small jar that he had set out earlier.  

“It’s made of a type of root. It’ll numb it.” He explained when she eyed the sickly blue goop suspiciously. “Okay. That should help the pain considerably. Are you ready?” he asked gently after applying the paste to her cheek. To which Belle nodded, but Rumplestiltskin noticed her swallow thickly as she eyed the needle. “I can talk to you if you like, if you’re nervous.” he asked, giving her a small comforting smile.

Belle ducked her head, embarrassed by her lack of bravery in the face of a simple needle. “Would you?”

***

“So…” He said nonchalantly -as if he wasn’t nearing her face with a large needle- “why on earth were you looking so closely at that quill in the first place?”

“I was just admiring it. It’s very-“ Belle stopped and clenched her jaw as the needle pierced her flesh, but was surprised to only feel a pinch and a slight tugging sensation. “-beautiful.” She finished  

“I see…that art set is a very beautiful one indeed” he agreed, easing the needle through her skin again. “I used to have a similar one that I used quite often”

She barely felt the third stitch as she focused on his voice, contemplating Rumplestiltskin finding time for art. “You used to draw?”

“Oh, constantly.” He chuckled as he continued to mend her flesh “In my early years with magic it was the only thing I could do to rid myself the thoughts spinning ‘round my head. That was before I started spinning gold of course.” 

That was the most he’d ever told her of his past, and Belle wasn’t sure what to say. Not wanting to tarnish the moment, she only nodded slightly –as much as she could with a needle hanging out of her cheek- 

“I still do it once in a while…” Rumplestiltskin continued quietly.

The fact that he would choose to share these things with her made her heart flutter. She knew him, yes. She knew that he was Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One, and he spins straw into gold. She knew that his favorite dinner was meat pie, his favorite desert was blueberry turnover, he takes his tea with lemon and one sugar, and for unknown reasons he detests apples. She knew him more than most, probably more than anyone. But she didn’t _know_ him, and this glimpse into an otherwise hidden part of himself left her wanting more; wanting to _know_ him.

It occurred to her then, that if she wanted to know him, she would have to let him know her. Of course, he already knew much more about her than she knew of him, but it couldn’t hurt to let him know more, could it? _Do the brave thing and bravery will follow._ That’s what her mother had always told her, and she had lived by those words her entire life. So why stop now?  

“My mother used to draw…Before she was killed.”

Rumplestiltskin hesitated before the next stitch, taking in her words. 

“I remember when I was little, she would draw the most beautiful pictures and I would hang them all over my chambers.” She smiled at the memory as Rumplestiltskin finished the last stitch. “By the time I was 15 you could hardly see the walls” she chuckled, remembering the way her father would only shake his head and smile when another patch of wall was covered. 

Rumplestiltskin leaned back and sat on his feet to admire his handiwork and watch Belle as she spoke. He knew much about her, but she had never spoken to him about her childhood before, and it made him wonder what had compelled her to share the little anecdote.  He was drawn out of his thoughts when Belle spoke again. 

“Do you think maybe you could- I mean only if you wanted to but-“ She paused and lowered her gaze to her skirts where her hands were now picking at the hem nervously. “you know, never mind. It’s silly.”

Her tone caused any ache in the pit of his stomach, and all he wanted to at that moment was wrap her up in his arms and tell her that absolutely nothing she could want was silly. Of course, he couldn’t do that, so he settled for words. “Well…” he began “I’m a silly old monster.” He said with a lopsided grin “What is it you want, Belle?”

She lifted her head, a new glimmer in her eyes. “Could you…teach me? ...to draw.”

He had to admit, he wasn’t exactly expecting that. “Well…I don’t-“ He started, stopping himself before he said something that would make that hopeful gleam in her eyes fade away. _This could be good_ , he told himself. Rumplestiltskin often forgot to indulge in life’s little pleasures, and spending time with Belle doing something he enjoyed, well that was a pleasure that he wouldn’t deny himself. “I suppose I could show you the basics” 


	2. Chapter 2

The lessons had started that night –at Belles request- and both student and teacher were eager to begin when they met in the library after supper. Art case in tow and a gleeful grin plastered on her face, he couldn’t help but smile brightly back at her. Even with a gash the length of his index finger down her cheek –which didn’t seem to faze her; thank the gods- she still managed to take his breath away. 

Sitting side by side on the rug in front of the fire place, he watched her with bridled admiration, barely succeeding in not blurting out how beautiful she was. The way the light of the flames flickered over her features, and gleamed in her already bright eyes, and cast a gorgeous warm glow on her chocolate curls, making them look even softer than usual. He longed to reach across the scant inches that divided them and run his hand through her hair, feel its soft warmth envelop his fingers. But, knowing what the consequences of doing so would be, he settled for secret glances when she hunched over the parchment in concentration. 

The first night, with his keen direction she produced what Rumple affectionately called an “Abstract portrait”, which in reality was more of a disproportional portrait. The eyes were a bit too small, as was the mouth, while the nose was almost cartoonly large, but Belle was proud all the same, and Rumple praised her for the amount of effort she had put into it. 

That night after bidding Rumple goodnight, she had begun the walk to her bedchamber, but stopped at the doors and turned back. “Rumple?” she asked quietly, getting his attention from his seat at his wheel.

“Did you forget something, dearie?” 

Quickly she was at his side, wringing her hands and smiling sheepishly. “I just wanted to thank you…properly. For you know…everything” she said, motioning to her cheek. “and for being so patient. And for helping me draw.” She rambled. Then she was silent, a hint of an embarrassed smile playing at the corner of her mouth. 

Rumplestiltskin nearly choked when she leaned forward and slipped her hand beneath his hair, placing her warm palm flush against the side of his neck. He felt his skin heat and his heart beat at least 3 times its normal speed when she leaned in, keeping eye contact the whole while. And had he been a mortal man, he thought, he would have very well died right then and there when her lips pressed against his mottled cheek. 

Something about it, the way she held his neck, the way she paused inches from his lips before moving for his cheek, the way her lips were just far enough apart to feel her hot damp breath on his skin, the way she lingered just a little longer than would be considered normal…nothing about it felt like a ‘thank you’ kiss on the cheek. 

When she removed her hand form his neck and stepped back he released a breath he hadn’t meant to hold, barely hiding a sigh of contentment. 

“Thank you.” She smiled brightly, waiting til he returned the smile to turn and practically skip out of the hall. 

Just when he thought it was safe, his fingers lifted to his cheek, lightly stroking the place where her lips had touched him so gently. 

“Oh and Rumple!-“ 

His hand shot back to the curve of his wheel as she called out, hearing her footsteps coming closer again. 

“Forget something else?” Rumple croaked when she came back into sight

“Do you think we could do it again tomorrow?” 

Rumples fogged mind spun. Do _what?!_

“The drawing lesson I mean” she clarified, as if she read his mind. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if she could. 

Rumple rose from his stool and cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn’t crack like a school boy's again. “Whatever you desire m’lady” he vowed, making a show of bowing playfully. 

Belle only giggled and shook her head before bidding him a second goodnight and turning to leave, spinning ‘round to shoot him a bright smile –which he readily returned- and disappeared behind the large doors of the great hall. 

*** 

Quickly the lessons became a nightly routine. Each night after supper Belle would put on a kettle while Rumple spun, then they would sit together on the rug and practice sketching on their own separate sheets of parchment. Some nights she wanted to draw a portrait of a character in one of her books, some nights she wanted to draw flowers –which Rumple supplied, only as a reference for her sketches of course.  And if when he did bring her flowers for "reference" and she put them in a vase beside her bed that meant…well he wasn’t quite sure what that meant. But he guessed it was a good thing.  

It hadn’t taken long for Belles skills to advance incredibly, but he had expected nothing less from such a determined woman. She had nearly mastered the proportions of faces after only a few nights and little direction from Rumple. It was almost like the talent had always been there just waiting for someone to discover it. 

Some nights they fell into competitions. Who could draw a better tree the quickest, who could draw the better teacup –Rumple had awarded Belle the victory in that one for her perfect rendition of his favorite chipped teacup- and on a few occasions making a game of passing a sheet of parchment back and forth, adding a bit to the drawing each time to see what they ended up with. It was comfortable, sitting together, night after night, quietly bantering over the crackling of the fire. It felt _right_ , like that’s how it was meant to be.   

***

“Rumplestiltskin?” Belle said suddenly, looking up from the book she had been half-heartedly skimming for the past half hour. 

Rumple gave a hum of acknowledgement, looking up briefly from his spinning to find her staring at him. 

“Do you think it’s about time to remove these stitches?” she began, motioning toward her cheek “It’s healing quite well. Quite quickly actually…are you sure that blue paste wasn’t magic?”

Rumple chuckled, standing from his wheel and striding toward her. ”Of course it wasn’t! I told you no magic, and I’m a man of my word. Have I ever lied to you?” He stopped at the side of the armchair she was seated in, squatting down and narrowing his eyes at the nearly healed wound. 

“ _Well…_ ”

“Don’t answer that.”   
Belle giggled softly, “Well are you going to take them out or not?”

“tsk tsk, don’t be impatient” he said with a smirk, making a flourish with his hand, “May I?” 

Belle narrowed her eyes at him, contemplating, then squeezed her eyes shut, “Okay, go ahead.” 

With a snap of his fingers she felt a slight tugging sensation and the thread was gone. She opened her eyes to find Rumple smiling slightly.  

“Good as new” He proclaimed, then brought his fingers up to lift her chin, drawing a line under the cut with his thumb, “Well…almost good as new” 

She bit her lip thoughtfully, and then met his eyes, “Do you think it’ll leave a scar?”

“Without magical intervention it will” he answered, dropping his hand from her chin, “I could take it away if you want… uses less magic than healing.”

Belle shook her head gently and half smiled, “A scar might be neat though…make me feel like some kind of warrior or adventurer like in the books” She said enthusiastically, then looked down to her hands absently stroking the book in her lap, “It would be a reminder…that I still got an adventure” she raised her eyes, staring into his amber orbs. 

His eyes softened and he raised his eyebrows, a smirk playing at his lips, “Getting mangled by a quill, an adventure?”

She chuckled at that and shook her head, keeping her eyes locked with his all the while, “No, a much better adventure.”

The smirk disappeared from his lips, a curious –but still soft- look in his eyes and he furrowed his brow in question. 

“Maybe I’ll tell you about it someday,” she said with a teasing smile.

_T_ _hat little minx._

Rumple was still perplexed by what she’d said and as determined as he was to find out what she meant, but he wouldn’t push, it could wait for later. 

Presently she was gazing at him with more affection in her eyes than anyone had ever looked at him with –which also perplexed him, and he’d have done anything to make that last. So, in a spur of the moment decision, a paper wrapped rectangle appeared in his hand behind his back. 

Rising to his feet directly in front of her chair, he gave a playful bow and flashed a grin at her –which, of course, caused Belle to erupt into a fit of giggles, much to Rumples delight- before revealing the gift hidden behind him. He held the parcel out to her, wiggling it when she didn’t take it. 

She smirked up at him, then eyed the gift suspiciously before ever so gently –or maybe not- yanking it from his hands in excitement.

She looked like a child during winter solstice. The ever present light in her eyes grown to an almost overwhelming brightness that very nearly made Rumples knees weak, a giant silly grin spread wide across her face as she tore at the paper keeping her from her prize. 

When the paper was removed and thrown to the side and she was able to properly examine the gift, she gasped. 

Rumple shifted his weight from one foot to another, uneasily waiting for her to say something. 

“A journal…” Belle breathed, turning the leather bound book in her hands. 

“I was just thinking it may be easier for you to draw in a journal rather than loose parchment,” He explained, pulling down on the sides of his brocade vest, straightening it to occupy his hands  -which didn’t seem to know how to work properly nowadays. 

Belle said nothing, only continued to turn the journal over in her hands, examining it. It was about the size of a large novel, and covered in supple dark mahogany leather, her name stamped beautifully in gold calligraphy on the front cover. 

Rumple heard a small whimper, then noticed her wee frame shaking ever so slightly. He nearly panicked before she finally spoke. 

“Rumple…It’s- it’s beautiful” 

Suddenly he was being enveloped –or rather, tackled- in the most aggressive hug he’d ever witnessed, knocking him back a few steps. His hands instinctively went to her back as she squeezed his shoulders. He wondered if she was aware of the fact that she was nuzzling his neck, because he was acutely aware of it. He could feel the wetness of what he assumed were tears, and her hot damp shaky breath against the skin below his jaw. It was almost too much for him to handle, but she eventually pulled back, allowing him to form a coherent thought.   

Pulling away but not stepping back, her hands lingered on his shoulders. She smiled up at him, her eyes still wet with what Rumple hoped were tears of happiness. 

“I don’t think anyone has ever given me such a thoughtful gift. Thank you, Rumple.”

Suddenly aware that he was still holding her waist, Rumple dropped his hands to his sides, rubbing his fingers together nervously. Disappointed as he was when Belles hands finally left his shoulders and she took a step back, he was glad to be able to breath normally again. 

“I am eh- I’m glad you like it.” He muttered, looking anywhere but her eyes. 

“I love it.” 

She spun around to retrieve the journal –which had been abandoned in her chair, and turned back to face the flustered sorcerer, “I can’t wait to use it!” 

“I won’t keep you then. I have business to attend to.” He declared with a flourish of his hands –the one she’d long ago identified as his ‘nervous flourish’-, turning on his heel and quickly striding off toward his tower. “Oh- and Belle?” he started, stopping suddenly and turning back ‘round to face her, “You can have the rest of the day off…draw to your hearts content” he finished, disappearing in a cloud of smoke before she could respond. 

She huffed, smirking, “It’s not as if you actually give me any reason to clean” she muttered with a shake of her head. He’s such an odd man, she thought; such an odd, wonderful man.    

***

Since the day he’d given her the journal she hadn’t put it down. Anywhere Belle was, the thing came along, as well as at least one stick of graphite. Rumplestiltskin would never have thought Belle could find something she enjoyed as much –if not more than- her beloved books, but reading seemed to have taken a back seat to sketching and scribbling away in the journal; especially as of late. That fact was one he secretly relished in quite a lot, because for reasons unknown to him, the fireplace in the great hall was her favorite place to sit and draw. Of course, that meant he found himself spinning at his wheel there much more often than his tower. 

Today was one of those days. Belle was curled in the high-backed chair in front of the fireplace, her journal open in her lap, scratching away in it while Rumple spun.  It was peaceful; the creaking of the wheel paired with the soft scratching of graphite against paper and the crackling of the fire. Rumple does his best spinning at times like those. Simply having Belle in the same room as him put him at ease. 

The sound of Belle shifting suddenly in her chair distracted his attention from spinning, and when he looked up she was almost completely covered by the quilt that had previously been covering only her legs. He may have gone as far to describe the scene as “cute” or maybe even “adorable”. She had pulled the blanket up over her head, wrapping it around herself with a hole only big enough for her face to show through. She almost looked like a child, as wee as she was, and all bundled up in a chair that made her look even smaller. 

“Cold, dearie?” Rumple teased, slowly turning his wheel as he watched her turn to shoot him a mock glare. 

“Well it’s freezing in here!” she cried, flailing her arms about inside her quilt-cave, “I’m going to take a hot bath, maybe then I’ll be able to feel my toes.” She declared, standing from her chair and moving swiftly out of the room, quilt and all. 

He only chuckled and shook his head, returning to his spinning. 

***

Reaching her bedchamber in record time –which was considerably warmer, she noticed- Belle discarded her makeshift quilt-cloak on her bed and moved quickly to the adjoined bathing room, finding the room already filling with steam. She glanced at the large tub in the corner, which was already filled with hot water, and broke out in a smile.

_He can try to say he doesn’t care for me all he wants_ , she thought, _but he’s absolutely awful at it._

He’d even thought to magic some sort of fragrant oils into the water, she noticed as she slid into the tub. Such an odd man, her Rumplestiltskin. 

***

Belle had only been gone no more than ten minutes when Rumples focus began to waver.  It was really no secret how much he cared for her, how much he needed her, really. He couldn’t even focus on his spinning without her in the room for gods sake. 

He dropped his hands from the unmoving wheel in defeat and gazed at the chair she had occupied. The way he felt about her…he’d never felt it before. And that was a problem. Because there was no way she could ever feel the same. At the most she saw him as a friend, and sweet, sweet Belle could befriend anyone.     

Sighing deeply, he stood from his stool and made his way to the fireplace, planning to sit for a while, if he couldn’t spin.  As he neared the chair Belle had claimed as her own, he noticed something wedged between the arm and cushion of the chair. Her journal of drawings.

_No_. He told himself. _That would be invading her privacy._

He stood over the chair contemplating for a good long while, but eventually his curiosity became too much, and he flopped himself in the chair and placed the journal on his lap. Again he contemplated for long while. On one hand, Belle may feel it an invasion of her privacy. On the other hand, she didn’t exactly have to know, now did she? It was harmless anyway, just a curious glance in at her sketches. He was her teacher after all, he could he was checking her progress. 

Mind made up, he flipped the cover open. The first page was an array of different facial features; different sizes and shapes of noses and mouths and eyes, all scattered around the paper. The second was a rough sketch of what he recognized as the magical hammer on display in the great hall. The third and fourth held beautiful sketches of several different flowers, all of which he had given her at some point “for reference”. But it was the fifth page that caught his attention. A portrait, and a quite good one at that, of _him_. 

The sixth page was the same as the last, another portrait of him, only with a different facial expression. Quickly flipping through the next few pages, he discovered yet more portraits. Some of him smiling, some with blank expressions, some with his lips turned up in a snarl, and all drawn with precision as he’d only rarely encountered.

Gently paging through the remaining drawings, only glancing at each one before moving to the next, he found more flowers, more objects displayed around the castle, but more than anything, more sketches of him. More than half the drawings in the book were of him, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. 

Turning back a few pages, he stopped at a page that showed him in a bow, smiling; just like he had when he gave her the journal. He slammed the book shut and practically leapt to his feet at the sound of someone softly clearing their throat behind him. Belle. 

She met his eyes for a moment, then looked away, inspecting the suddenly very interesting flagstones. She almost looked embarrassed. 

Rumple nearly scoffed at the thought. There was absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. He was the one that should be embarrassed, standing there with wide eyes, gaping like a fish with her journal still clutched in his hand. 

Finally Belle broke the silence, “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have- that’s terribly inappropriate of me. I-“ 

“No! No…I shouldn’t have been snooping” Rumple responded nervously, “I ehm…they’re very good.” 

“You really think so?” Belle asked quietly, a blush creeping onto her cheeks. 

“Definitely. Dare I say, better than my own,” He said with a nervous chuckle, “I’m just not sure why you would want to draw _me_ ”

Belle blushed even harder at that, a nervous smile playing at the corners of her mouth, “I like to draw you… You’re uh- you’re very handsome,” she admitted, eyes flitting from his face to her shoes to his shoes to face again. 

Rumple scoffed and tossed his head back at the absurdity of her statement, “Ah, Belle, dearie, mockery isn’t nice,” he twittered, wiggling a finger in her direction.

“I'm _not_ mocking you!  I find you very…Appealing to the eye.” 

He actually laughed then, a high giggle that told her that his walls were going back up. “Oh? And pray tell what you could possibly find “appealing” about _this_ ” He spit, gesturing at himself.

To anyone else, Rumplestiltskin would have appeared angry, but Belle knew better. He really didn’t believe her. He was hurt, not angry. That made up her mind. In the past months she’d fought with her feelings for him constantly, but now was not the time for that. 

“Well…” she began, taking a few purposeful steps toward him, coming to stand a mere foot in front of him, “your clothes, for one. They’re very nice.” She said, lifting a hand to the collar of his brocade vest and rubbing a bit of the fabric between her fingers. 

_Gods what am I doing. He must think I’m insane. His clothes! That’s the first thing I say!?_ She thought when Rumple lifted his chin and eyed her warily.

“Your hair too…It always looks so soft. The curls never come out quite as pretty on paper though.” 

Rumple tensed when Belle lifted her hand from his vest to his hair, petting the side of his head softly; his hair was even softer than it looked. Do the brave thing, she told herself as she continued, “I quite like your skin…it changes…did you know that? When the light hits your face in different ways…” 

In a moment of courageousness, she brought the hand that had been stroking his hair, to his face, cupping the warm skin of his cheek, and lifted her other unoccupied hand to his vest, where she could feel his heart beating out of his chest. 

He was still silent and tense, but now meeting her eyes with a growing softness, the constricted features of his face relaxing at the feeling of her warm palm against his skin. 

Then, mustering all the bravery she possibly could, her eyes flicked to his lips, where he darted his tongue out nervously. Belle met his eyes again, pulling her lip between her teeth, and the mixture of confusion and want that she found in his dark eyes gave her the little push she needed to finish what she’d started.

Rumple became vaguely aware that they had somehow migrated much closer than they were a moment ago, and then became exceedingly aware that Belle was moving even closer, or rather, her face was moving closer to his own. 

His heart was soaring, he’d been dreaming of this moment for months, and here it was, finally happening. But the more doubtful part of him, his brain, was telling him that she couldn’t possibly be serious. That she would pull back and laugh in his face in a second, and he would pretend he wasn’t bothered.  

When he felt her warm breath on his lips, and saw her eyes flutter shut, his heart won out. 

It was gentle, and soft, and warm, and everything he associated with the beautiful woman that was currently pressing her lips against his own. 

When Rumples brain finally caught up with him, and he moved his lips with hers, he felt her smile into his mouth, and nothing could have been more perfect than that moment. That is, until they broke apart. She was practically glowing with happiness, and it was because of _him_.

She smiled up at him and snaked her hands around his neck, then pressed herself to his chest and nuzzled his neck. Without a thought, he wrapped his arms around her middle and squeezed her in a hug that nearly lifted her off the ground. 

She giggled against his skin, then sighed softly into his neck.   
“You’re my adventure.” She whispered, pressing a feather light kiss to the juncture where his neck met his shoulder. 

Rumple hummed in question, pulling back enough to meet her eyes and quirk a brow at her. 

“Remember, I told you that I still got an adventure?” She asked gently, gazing into his eyes as her own gleamed with unshed tears, “You’re my adventure.” 

Rumple let out a shaky gasp, still not completely believing that any of this was happening. Not sure what to say, he did the first thing that came to mind, which was pull her tighter against him and close the gap between them once more. It was still gentle, still soft, but tinted with an overwhelming desire, and it was incredible. 

As her fingers wound into the hair at the base of his skull, and his hands splayed on her back, their mouths devouring each other, Rumplestiltskin thought that this was one adventure he never wanted to end. And from that point, he knew he would _never_ stop trying to be the best adventure his Belle would ever have.

  
    
 


End file.
